Trial By Error
by Qualapec the She-Wolf
Summary: Sometimes, for the accused to survive a trial by error he has to work with a fellow suspect...xover with Bleach.
1. Chapter 1

Dislcaimer: I do not own Dresden Files or Bleach or anything that anybody else in the known universe could sue me for

Dislcaimer: I do not own Dresden Files or Bleach or anything that anybody else in the known universe could sue me for. I own nothing.

AN: All right, a little note here to get everybody started up. This story takes place four years before the Bleach main storyline and just after Summer Knight in Dresden Files storyline. Which actually puts the current storylines at about the same time. This story will be just before Jinta and Ururu come into the care of Kisuke, and I take a couple of other liberties considering parts of his past that we can only really guess at this point. I've worked hard to keep it as even as possible between the two storylines, and have worked out every bit of reasoning I can muster to justify differences so the blending process is easier. Please, I hope you like it and if you have any constructive criticism I am perfectly open to it. Enjoy!

Trial By Error

Kisuke Urahara spent hours each morning before opening making sure everything was as neat and tidy as possible. People liked neat and tidy shops; it made them think that they were in a respectable establishment. The night of the grand opening about two months ago, Kisuke hadn't been able to sleep. So instead, he'd cleaned and cleaned and straightened and cleaned some more. He could never remember forsaking that much sleep for anything other than one of his projects; a habit he'd been trying to kick since his teens. Lately when he couldn't sleep because of some technical problem with his latest toy he would saunter around the shop just doing what needed doing. It kept his hands occupied while his mind wandered. Although he learned quickly that some things need to have one's complete attention. For example, whenever he was working with box cutters. He had quite literally put his blood, sweat, and tears into the shop's creation due to inattention with a sharp, pointy object.

And now everything, all his hard work over the last couple months, lay in shambles at his feet. Shelves were toppled over on each other, many of them broken irreparably. Anything plastic was in relatively good shape but anything glass had smashed upon contact with the tile. The freezers had been left open and their contents spilled out onto the floor. Long melted ice cream was now useless. Beers in glass bottles had also broken when smashed onto the ground, splashing the floor with puddles of colorful liquid. The beer created a pungent stench that mixed horribly with the cheap perfume already in the air, filling it with a variety of scents that made his nose itch. This combination of smells and broken glass promised to make his cleanup job not only nauseating but also potentially hazardous.

He wouldn't even bother to save most of the merchandise that was destroyed. It was pointless. Besides, if he was a customer and he learned that he was being sold goods that had undergone this kind of vandalism he might not come back to that shop. It would take Kisuke forever to pay for the damages. As it stood, if he hoped to avoid going completely out of business he wouldn't be eating for a week.

He didn't know how long he stood there, surveying the damage to his shop and pondering what to do next. All the while he stood there, he continued fighting the childish anger in the back of his mind. The shop was his...and somebody had snuck in and torn it apart.

"Kisuke?" a voice called out from the front door. He turned his attention upward to discover one of his favorite people standing in the doorway watching him observe the damage. Chocolate skin covered by a simple white T-shirt and tight jeans, both of which brought out the color of her skin and the sinew of her amazonian frame. Her violet hair was pulled back into a fighter's ponytail with a few wild bangs framing golden eyes with vaguely feline slits. Those golden eyes were narrowed in concern.

"Yoruichi," he greeted. "Come in...be careful of broken glass." The last was added when he saw all she was wearing on her feet were a set of yellow flip-flops.

She stepped through the door. _Literally_ through the door. The glass was smashed enough for her to fit through. "What happened?"

"I went out for a night. I had to check in with my...contact." 'Contact' meaning the person who supplied him with the soul reaper goods he couldn't sell lawfully.

"They tore the place apart..."

"I kinda noticed that."

She ignored him and absently shoved a jagged edge out of her way with the tip of her flip flop, "Do you think a soul reaper did this?"

Kisuke nodded. It had occurred to him. He hadn't originally thought them so petty, but exiles weren't supposed to be living it up. It was a distinct possibility. "Maybe..."

"You set up wards before you left?"

Again, he nodded, "I had some written down. They were pasted on the walls."

"You know that if you get one brush stroke wrong on those they can be completely ineffective?"

He touched a fallen shelf, testing to see if it could be salvaged. "Yes, Ms. Shihonin, I'm well aware of that. But it's unlikely. I've written that set thousands of times. It shouldn't have failed against a simple soul reaper. And this is just too small potatoes to get a captain involved." The shelf withstood a couple of shoves, before falling completely apart on the third. Of course...it would have just been too damn easy if he could have reused the old shelves.

"Humans?"

"Nah. The ward I used was supposed to turn rascals away too. It was meant to keep out everything from hollows and soul reapers to...mice."

"They didn't steal anything?" The question was more of a statement as she examined the wounded cash register. The poor thing was smashed on the floor so badly that its monetary guts were littered all across the hard cement.

He didn't say anything, quickly becoming fascinated with a little detail he hadn't noticed before. Perhaps if he looked like he hadn't heard her then he could avoid the verbal thrashing for a few more moments. He had enough problems as it was without her pointing out something he was already well aware of. It wouldn't do to lie to her either. Childish, maybe, to pretend the problem didn't exist. But if soul reapers, _any_ soul reapers, had been the ones to take _it_ then he was screwed whatever he did. _It_ would be long gone and he in very serious trouble.

"They didn't steal anything _did they_?" she said, a little more of a growl added to her words.

"They stole my self-esteem if that's what you mean..." He was still examining something, going on the off chance that he was in luck.

There was no need to look behind to see her realize what his silence was hiding. He could hear the horribly exasperated sigh that came from her. "They stole it didn't they?"

He found himself walking the perimeter now, his eyesight completely focused on the ceiling. "...Yeah...only thing they took in the entire shop."

"Damnit, Kisuke..." she said suddenly, using the tone of voice a parent uses after their child has run across the street to fetch a ball; a strange mixture of anger and worry, "If a soul reaper took that and brought it back to the Soul Society they can _gut_ you!"

"Relax, I don't think a soul reaper took it."

"But you just said it might have been a soul reaper."

"I'm disproving that theory right now." He opened the door to the storage room and stepped inside. "Look at the lights."

Yoruichi glanced up at the bulbs just above them. Her eyes narrowed. "They're scorched." She was starting to catch on, which was good.

"Bingo. Fuse box is blown too. Whatever it was it completely fried the wiring of the building."

Yoruichi was blinking at him, searching her memory for anything that could have caused that kind of damage. The fried electrical system was giving Kisuke a pretty good idea of what was behind it. Hollows and soul reapers, spirit energy in general, wasn't made to affect the world around it. It could affect people who had high enough levels of it themselves, and it could react to the physical world in high concentrations, but not the world around it. Spirit energy existed on a spiritual plain, a different dimension of reality. It only interfered with technology when that spirit energy was transformed and used in the physical world.

For example: a soul reaper and a hollow are fighting in a hospital. Each is made up of high concentrations of spirit particles that can cause damage to and interact with the physical environment. However, even the most sensitive electronics in the hospital wouldn't be affected by the spiritual energy radiating off the two combatants.

Some people with high levels of spirit energy went their whole lives unable to manipulate it to their advantage. A _very_ select few were born with the ability to manipulate their energy strictly on the spiritual plain, allowing them to fight hollows and other creatures of the spirit.

Then there were those in the class all there own. Those able to bring their spirit energy into the physical world and manipulate it there. A side effect was interference with electrical currents. There were fewer overall of this type than the populations of those with high levels, but many more than those able to manipulate their energy on the spiritual plain. The Nan Wu, the practitioners, the mages...

...The wizards.

VVVVV

Harry Dresden woke up from his usual nightmare to Mister's playful bats at his face. The cat's claws weren't extended, mercifully. If they were then Harry figured he would have a hard time charming possible clients that day, what with his face cut to ribbons and everything. That and he would have woken up a lot sooner. No, he _knew_ from personal experience he would have woken up sooner. The kitten he'd picked up on the street soon learned that kitty scratches were not the appropriate way to wake up Mr. Dresden.

"Outta my way, Fur Face, I'm up," Harry yawned as he crawled out of the warm covers and his warm feet touched the cold floor. Mister gave him a long glance, as if to make sure Harry intended to get up and feed him and not go back to bed. With a sniff, Mister disappeared into the kitchen/living room that made up the rest of Harry's apartment. Harry seriously considered nabbing a couple more minutes of sleep, but a quick glance at the clock told him it was time to face another day, earn another dollar, and hopefully live to face the next one.

His apartment was small and basic. There were none of the modern things such as stoves or refrigerator. A couple of dirty clothes still rested on the sofa. Eh, he needed to clean that up. A zombie had slimed one of them and he'd been procrastinating taking it to the dry cleaners. He always got looks at the smell. And he guessed that as a result the couch had become something of a dumping ground for clothes that got likewise slimed. Naturally, an underlying smell of something rotting was becoming increasingly noticeable. Damn, it used to be cleaner. What happened? Oh right, vamp girlfriend.

The most he had in the way of decorations were some old movie posters and the occasional ward that kept the beasties from coming in and messing the place up...worse than it already was, that is.

With great force of will he pulled himself out of bed and shuffled into the apartment. He opened the ice box and pulled out the carton of milk, with every intention in the world of pouring himself a nice, nonabrasive morning drink.

That _was_ his intention until all that came out of the milk carton was a thick, lumpy cream-like substance and a foul smell that filled the apartment so completely it made him force down a dry wretch.

He had air in his tires, no heat in his shower, and clusters in his milk. Yep, he lived a glorious life alright.

He was still recovering from a spell he'd been tinkering with relentlessly not too long ago; a spell he'd hoped would cure his...ex...girlfriend of her vampirism. He'd gotten next to no real work done because he'd spent so much time in his lab. As a result he'd barely been able to pay his rent the last couple of months, much less eat anything that Murphy or the Alphas weren't kind enough to buy for him. But he'd started shaving again and he'd cut his hair in such a way that it didn't look absolutely atrocious to any possible clients. He felt like he was getting back on his feet and thought this month held promise for just that.

Who would have thought it would take the world ending to get him back on the right track?

All of a sudden, the sound of a ringing phone interrupted his momentary diversion into his own thoughts. He walked over and picked it up. "Hello?" He answered.

"Harry?" A feminine voice said from the other end of the line.

"Last I checked."

"Cut the crap, Dresden, I'm not calling for a friendly visit."

"What's up, Murph?" He said more seriously. Lieutenant Karrin Murphy, head of Chicago PD's SI unit. In other words, leader of the Department's dumping ground for everything from cases nobody else wants to officers no one else wants. In the eyes of the Department Murphy's sole purpose is to take all of those messy, messy cases and package them up all nice and pretty. As a result Murphy and her folks had seen their fair share of supernatural crimes they couldn't solve.

ENTER: Friendly Neighborhood Wizard.

"I've got work for you." There was a dark, foreshadowing tone in her voice. He'd known her long enough to know what it meant.

He sighed, his heart sinking despite the thought of eating on his own buck for once, "I'm sorry to hear that..."

VVVVV

The apartment was a nice one, at least ten times larger than his own. It probably would have felt a lot bigger if not for the police investigators and paramedics cramming into every corner of the room, taking pictures and notes. If they were anything like Harry they were probably trying to forget why they were there at all. He felt it the second he walked in; the dreaded presence of death that clung to the apartment like thick smog. It added to the sense of claustrophobia in the room. Even the vanilla humans must have been feeling it, if the fidgeting and occasional nervous glances were any indication.

He made his way through the crowd, ignoring the strange, even hostile glances he got until he found a circle of detectives discussing something in the living room. Harry had been expecting a violent crime scene. Like hearts-exploding-out-of-chests violent. Or a disembowelment maybe. Disembowelments were popular among the denizens of the Nevernever. It was a classic that wasn't likely to go out of style anytime soon. Maybe a decapitation. Impalement. And countless other nasty deaths that added to his nightmares.

A man lay on the floor in front of the circle of detectives. He was anywhere from his late twenties to early thirties. Everything about him screamed sophistication; black slacks, black turtleneck, gelled back black hair. It fit with the rest of the apartment, which was almost exclusively white. He looked like he was passed out, a little pale from death, but extremely peaceful. As a matter of fact the only splotch of red on the entire scene was from the glass of wine he'd obviously dropped when he had died.

A blond woman stood in the circle of detectives. With her lovely locks and height that placed her almost two full feet below him she could have looked like someone's kid-sister, but the grim set to her jaw and the way she held herself told everybody in the room who was in charge.

"Hey, Murph," He greeted as cheerfully as circumstances allowed. Then more seriously, "What do we know so far?"

"Joshua Takanaka, 34, no obvious signs of death."

"He was carrying a bottle of wine when he kicked, might be poison."

Murphy nodded, "Yeah, that's what I thought too, but there aren't any of the normal external signs of poison. I know they don't all fit the same bill, but we'll still have to wait and see how the tox screen comes back."

"There aren't any other possible culprits?"

"You mean does he have a knife sticking out his forehead? Trust me, I looked." She ran a hand irritably through her blond locks. "Come with me, there's a reason I called you."

She took him back through the people surveying the crime scene to a large closet in the man's bedroom. Like everything else in the apartment, everything in the bedroom was either white or some version of cream color. It had the insanely tidy quality of either somebody who didn't live there much or who was neat to the point of bordering on obsessive compulsive.

Murphy slid open the closet door on the side of the room. Harry's eyes immediately narrowed in concentration as this new piece of evidence settled into the scene.

It was a shrine. There were statues of gods and goddesses that Harry recognized as Japanese, but not much more beyond that. Symbols were carved onto the small box that the statues and incense stood on. Harry knew he would have to take some pictures and try and find out which gods they were, and what the symbols meant. It was as he was taking in the shrine that he spied something he hadn't seen before. He looked around the bedroom then glanced into the bathroom. His suspicions were starting to look like they had more and more merit.

"So, let me guess, he was some dark wizard's servant or something and they were working on...Harry? What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," he said as he strode over to the larger area of the apartment and looked left and right quickly before heading to the kitchen. He glanced behind the microwave. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment to process the information he'd just gathered. 'Ah hah' moment.

"Dresden!" Murphy called, "You've got that look in your eyes, what's going on?"

"Didn't you notice how neat this place is? That everything looks so new?"

"Yes."

He turned to face her, "It looks new because it's hardly been used, if at all. There isn't a TV anywhere, no stereo either. He doesn't even have an electric toothbrush. The microwave isn't plugged in. Neither is the freezer. And I'm sure that if you look close enough the gas won't be hooked up to the stove and the shower won't connect to the building's hot water heater."

Murphy caught on, "You're saying he was one of you?"

Harry couldn't resist the short laugh, "Are you kidding? How could he be one of me when I'm one of a kind?"

A small smile quirked on her lips, "Charming, unique personality aside, was he a wizard?"

"Yep. Looks that way."

She started looking around. "But if that's the case why even have things like a microwave or freezer? Or a stove, for that matter?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he was one of those wizards trying to ignore who they are. Or maybe he needed to keep up appearances for some reason. Guests would wonder if he lived in this nice apartment and didn't have those nice things that usually come with nice apartments...Hey, I need to go get something and come back, but before I go there's one more thing I want to check."

He left the apartment and came back a minute later with a bunch of crystals in his hand and a water jug filled with salt. "May I?" he asked.

"Sure, I'd say we've seen all we can see."

He took the salt and poured it in a circle around the body. Once done, he placed the five crystals at five separate points so that if the lines were to connect they would form a pentacle star. He made sure these points were lined up with the man's arms, legs, and head. Then the wizard stood back and surveyed the scene.

Murphy looked at him, then back at the setup, then back at Harry. "What are you waiting for?"

"This is going to require me using my second sight."

"You don't like doing that?"

"No."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked, worry creeping into her tone.

Harry shook his head, "Not to you or the people in here."

"But...to you?"

He didn't quite know how to answer that. In a way it was dangerous. Anything he experienced in his second sight would always be just as vivid as if it had just happened. They became the nightmares that he sometimes worried would drive him crazy after enough years passed of doing this. But it needed to be done, just like everything else he did these days.

So, instead of answering her at all, he closed his eyes and hesitated in opening them again. Was he afraid of what he would see? Absolutely. He'd already seen a lifetime's worth of nightmarish things through his sight, and he really didn't want to add to that list. When he finally got up the strength to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was Murphy. Only, she wasn't the Murphy he knew by normal sight.

In the Second Sight he saw the truth of things. Everything in the world around them was something at its base, and the Sight let him see that. With people this translated into what their souls looked like. Nothing could be hidden from the second sight, and there were some people that hid their souls for a damn good reason.

Murphy's image wasn't like that.

She was glazed with the brilliant, shining glory of a warrior angel with her sword sheathed and her wings in a resting position behind her. Her blond hair shone like the sun, giving her the subtle appearance of a halo. "Harry?" she asked in worried tones that sounded far away and echo-y in his second sight.

He tore his eyes away from her and glanced at the rest of the apartment. Whatever had happened in the apartment took place in the evening; he could see that from the faint traces of black magic covering the place. The dawn had covered most of the tracks that would be left behind by the magical perpetrator, but that proved that some form of dark magic had gone down here.

The circle of salt and crystals made a cylinder of white energy inside it meant to trap any traces of energy left behind on the body. Strangely, the only energy remaining was the faint traces of the dark magic that Harry was sure had been used to kill the man. There wasn't any trace whatsoever of the man himself.

That was really, _really_ off. Any being inhabited by a soul should have had some kind of trace of the person left behind. Even if the death wasn't particularly violent or a ghost was left behind, there should have been at least some trace of the person. It was like there was just nothing left.

He closed his eyes and turned off the sight.

"Are you alright?" Murphy asked him.

"Yeah, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Or as...complete as I thought it would be."

"What's that mean?"

"I think...I don't know what I think. I mean it's like he left no impression." At her questioning look he continued, "You, me, that guy over there dusting the place for prints, we all leave an impression on the world around us. The things that belong to us carry parts of us with them. How long and how strong depends on our attachment to the object. Our deaths are usually where we leave the biggest imprint. That's what ghosts are really. Like the guy in the movie who's obliterated by the space monster and all that's left after the flash of light is a human-shaped dark smudge on the wall behind him. How big that smudge is depends on a lot of factors. But to leave no smudge at all just goes against the _rules_." And that was _not_ freaking fair.

"How does that happen?"

Harry was about to answer, but he stopped himself. How _did_ that happen? "There are a couple of creatures that feed on peoples' essence that I know of, but I'll have to do some research to see if that means a total disappearance of self. In the Nevernever I'm aware of a few things that prey on ghosts, life energy, etcetera. But they're extremely rare and most aren't exactly powerful enough to survive outside the Nevernever for any length of time. Opportunistic hunters, too, and if they attacked a human on our plain they certainly wouldn't be powerful enough too feed off a practitioner of any caliber, much less kill them. It would be like a coyote trying to take down an elephant."

"What about vampires?"

Harry inwardly groaned, he'd been hoping against that possibility. True, the base of what vampires ate was life energy. Red Court and Black court drank blood because it was a link to the person's spirit. As life blood spilled out so did life energy. The Black Courts especially practiced this. They were basically animated corpses, and they needed someone else's energy to keep the engine running. The Red Court had living bodies so blood doubled as a food source, but their bodies also needed the high spiritual levels they got from feeding. It was these high spiritual levels that made sure they could leap two-story buildings in a single bound or brush off a bullet in the chest. Then there was the White Court, who Harry didn't know all that much about, except that they were the closest to humans among the vamps and they fed solely on life energy. Although instead of ripping chunks out of their prey's necks they used emotion to feed.

But since the victim didn't show any external signs of having his throat torn out or having been bled dry that ruled out Black Court and Red Court. The more he thought about it the more a White Court vamp became his primary suspect.

Yes, the vampires. The vampires who the White Council were at war with. How anxious he was to deal with them again in all their icky, psychotic glory. Yippie. "Maybe. I hope to high hell not but maybe. I'll have to do some more research. Like I said, I may have to come back to the scene later." They were leaving the apartment now, and almost the second he stepped out of the threshold the feelings of anxiety dissipated. Some people thought it was bad enough in a crowded elevator with other people breathing and radiating heat, but unless those people were empaths they didn't know what it was like to feel emotions gathering in a room. High emotions gathering behind a threshold was an unpleasant feeling, and he was happy to leave.

Murphy nodded thoughtfully, "Well. Tell me as soon as you find anything..." Then, casually, "Have you eaten?"

"Ditto, and no."

"Come on, part of my payment includes meals...for now."

They were out in the hallway now, "Ouch. Does that mean that you wouldn't feed me if I didn't happen to be dirt poor?"

She snorted, which was exceptionally good for someone with such a cute nose, "Don't kid yourself, Dresden. You aren't even dirt poor."

They smiled and did their best to forget about the case with their usual playful banter. Murphy was the only one he knew who could walk away from a crime scene and be making jokes and snide remarks about his monetary value minutes later. "In that case I suppose it's good that money can't buy happiness."

"Or in your case, sanity."

Chapter End


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or the Dresden Files

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or the Dresden Files. Nor to I own anything else that anybody in the known universe could sue me for. I own nothing.

Trial By Error

Harry Dresden was at a loss. Someone dying and leaving nothing behind? He could rightly say he'd never seen anything like that before, and in all honesty he wasn't too keen on finding out what it was that did the deed. Usually when he found out what said something was it came knocking down his door, or trying to tear him in twain...or starting a war between the governing bodies of Faerie...Generally speaking, it made his day miserable. A part of him didn't want to know what it was.

But something like this, something powerful enough to attack a practitioner so quickly and so cleanly, couldn't be taken lightly. Harry didn't know what it was, and hence didn't know what its motives were. If it was a revenge killing then it could be an isolated incident. But if it was some spiritually mutated monster that was preying on the wizards in the area then a lot of innocent people could die before Harry could stop it. _If_ he could stop it. He could very well be one of the people this thing mows down.

There were too many variables to consider. The deck was filled with far too many wild cards for him to work up a tangible defense against. So he did what he always did when he didn't have a clue what on heaven or earth he was dealing with; he went to Bob.

His apartment was basically a basement. A neat, tidy, homey little hovel he called his own, but a basement nonetheless. The lab existed in a subbasement beneath his basement, which worked for him. Things like sunlight could interfere with delicate or dangerous magic. If dangerous magic was messed around with then he could be royally screwed over. Heat could also be a no-no. He had a long list of very rational reasons why he crammed himself in a dark little hole. None of them included the fact that he'd very much wanted to just disappear into the earth and darkness when he couldn't help Susan...

As a result of his last few months spent frantically going over potions and ingredients, the lab was even more of a mess than it used to be. When a person was hungry or tired out of their mind, little things like putting everything back where it belonged became pointless actions. Of course, when they regained their mental state they realized their mistake. That was when they would want to crawl back into that hole of despair, if only to avoid having to clean up the mess they'd left behind the last time.

There was, however, one shelf that remained uncluttered with anything but a bleached white human skull and some romance novels and magazines that earned Harry strange looks whenever he had to go out and buy them. He felt considerably less manly going to the local bookshop and grabbing a used copy of a book titled something like "Caress of the Highlander". He also felt like a jerk whenever he went to a convenience store to buy a magazine. Getting magazines was the worst. Teenage girls tried to make themselves invisible from the creep in the duster. Soccer moms with little bottle blond photo-copies gave him an 'I am _soooo _much better than you' look. And when certain small, blond cops coincidently see him while grabbing a Diet Coke they give him a look like they want to punch his lights out.

It was a damn good thing for Bob that he happened to come in handy every now and then, which said something considering he had no hands to speak of. "Hey, Bob. Wakey, wakey!"

Orange lights behind the skull's eyes flickered to life. They were far too chipper for Harry's liking "Morning, Boss!" echoed from inside. "So I guess it's 'Hidey Ho! Off to work we go!'?"

"Right-o. Right-o. Fido."

"Did you just make that up?"

"No. I came up with it a week ago. I've been lying in wait for the opportunity to use it."

"Uh-huh...It was really good, Boss. Top notch rhyming."

Harry paused for a second. Bob didn't usually compliment him. It was more his style to flippantly declare Harry's incompetence with language, before cursing him in Greek, and announcing that as soon as Harry got vivisected in combat with some nasty beastie he was going to find himself a _real_ wizard to advise. "Bob?"

"Yes?"

"I'm joking." When no response came from the skull Harry raised an eyebrow, "What's up?"

Somehow, and Harry could never quite pinpoint how Bob managed it, he looked nervous, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Harry sighed, "Okay. What new volume of what romance series your reading just came out?"

"It's just that the farewell edition of Bed-Rock magazine just came out."

A magazine. A goddamned magazine. "I thought I told you, Bob. I'm not getting you any more magazines."

"But it's the last one-"

"No."

"Double editi-"

"No."

Bob sighed, "You know Harry. I really didn't want to play this card, but I won't tell you what you want to know until you promise to get it for me."

Harry groaned and ran his hands through his hair. A familiar. One of these days he was going to get a familiar, and it would work for him for free and he wouldn't have to feel like a creep getting porn for something that really didn't _have_ a sex drive. Seriously, Bob was an air spirit. He didn't even really have free will, much less a need to procreate. "Whatever, Bob. I promise I'll get you the magazine. Now, can we get to work? Please?"

Bob, no longer over the top ass-kissing or begging, hopped back to his normal self. "Sure thing. What do you need?"

"We're going for a ride. There's something I need you to take a look at. You have permission to enter Mister until I say otherwise. While in Mister you are to stay with me at all times and inform me as to what you see at the crime scene upon our return, have I made myself clear?"

"Clear as a crystal skull." The skull's orange eyes went dim as a similarly orange and shapeless cloud drifted out from it. It slunk through the air quickly and with purpose before seeping its way up through the floorboards of the trap door. Harry knew that by the time he made his way up, his otherworldly lab assistant would have possessed his cat. He felt bad invading his cat's privacy like that, but there was no other way to really send Bob out by himself to look for information or bring him along during the day. Bob was an air spirit, a denizen of the Nevernever, and a weak one at that. Direct sunlight would cause him to dissipate. The cat's body would protect him from that. So would the skull, to some extent. But Bob couldn't move the skull, cutting back his effectiveness in getting away should they be attacked. Also Harry got sick and tired of odd looks when people happened to see him carrying a human skull in downtown Chicago. So he saved that for occasions where he specifically needed Bob to talk to him as they went along. Today was not one of those days, so into the cat went the air spirit.

Harry slipped his protective leather duster on again. Before leaving he grabbed the sports bag resting at the foot of his bed. Inside it he had all of his more important wizarding equipment. As in the stuff that he would need in hand when it hit the fan, which based off his experience in the last couple of years, it would.

He left his apartment with his sports bag in one hand, his staff in another, and fumbling with the keys as Bob slinked out in Mister's body.

VVVVV

Kisuke was in quite the pickle.

Long ago there had been things he hadn't wanted the Soul Society to find. So he'd developed technology that would keep the Soul Society from tracking the spiritual signature of anything he made. Right about now that plan wasn't working out for the best. Of course he'd planned for the possibility of someone stealing his objects...but the toy he'd been working on was in the beta stage and he hadn't had time to include the extra features. Changing the spiritual signature was one thing; that went into the materials it was made out of. But going back later and including a tracking system that would allow him alone to track it was more difficult. He had to actually _make_ the damn thing first, then he would have to make sure it worked, and if both of those columns had checks in them he would have to install the tracking system in such a way that it didn't interfere with the purpose of the device. This could prove rather frustrating, so he'd procrastinated.

He'd bitten back that paranoid part of him that said 'this is a bad idea Kisuke, it could get stolen, and the Soul Society would have our heads' by reminding himself 'don't be stupid, who would steal it? Who _could_ steal it? It can wait a little while'. Right then he could practically hear the little voice in the cane he carried laughing a musical I-Told-You-So.

While Benihime was technically his "other half" he liked Yoruichi better. Yoruichi would eventually drop things like this. Benihime would only ever use it to her advantage; sometimes years after the event took place.

He fought the urge to tell her to shut up. Benihime was a lady. Granted, she was a lady that manifested herself in the form of a long and lethal piece of steel, but a lady...and a partner. He would always treat her exactly as he did Yoruichi; with respect and courtesy...minus publicly unmentionable physical aspects of his relationship with Yoruichi.

"Kisuke?"

Speaking of which...Kisuke turned to face her. She sat on the counter, her flip-flops tapping delicately against the glass casing, "Yoruichi, I was going to go see Tessai today. He has more connections to the non-soul reaper supernatural community than I do. And I know he gets his shipments of potions from a contact in the White Council. I'm hoping they might know something."

She nodded and hopped off the counter, "Fine. I spent all night going through Internet sources. Your damn computer would lose a race with a one-legged horse, you know that, right?"

Kisuke shot her a smile, "Did you find anything?"

"Not much more than a pop-up proclaiming a free laptop upon clicking on a junk site that you might like," She bit the last part out with a smirk, "However nothing that could help our search. There's so much death and murder that it would be impossible to decipher the supernatural attacks from the human ones. I was going to go see Isshin."

Kisuke nodded, he didn't need to tell her to wait until Isshin's kids went to school, or to go in cat form to attract as little attention as possible. They had tried their best to limit their contact with the former soul reaper, for fear of bringing the crap that followed Kisuke around down on him and his kin. "Sounds like a plan. Meet for lunch and compare notes?"

He didn't need to look at her to know she agreed. That happened once people had known each other for centuries. There were times when their bond felt so tight he didn't even have to look at her to know every thought that was running through her head. It was how he knew where she was at all times during a fight. It was why they were in general such an effective team. But this had its downside as well; he could feel her uneasiness. The terrible worry she was trying to hide was radiating off of her.

He stopped at the door. He wouldn't be a good man if he left her alone all troubled like she was. Kisuke delicately set Benihime down against the unbroken door and walked back towards Yoruichi, who was making her way back to the living quarters. More than likely, she was going to make preparations to go wherever they would need to at the drop of a hat (should it come to that) before she went to talk to Isshin. The shop-keep didn't like it when her shoulders were tight like that. It meant she was worried and he was probably the source of that worry. Swooping down, he wrapped his arms around her, inhaling a scent that was hers and hers alone. Automatically she sank into him.

He wasn't hugging her for comfort or for amorous intentions. It was to remind her that they'd been in worse trouble than this. "Why so stressed?" he asked calmly. If he were calm then she would be. "If it wasn't a soul reaper that took it we shouldn't have anything to be afraid of-"

"I'm not afraid of _them_. I wasn't afraid of them then and I'm not afraid of them now...It's nothing." She finished curtly. Kisuke couldn't shake the feeling that she was lying to him a little. It wasn't a big lie. He was almost certain the words she spoke were rather close to the truth, but not quite there yet. That was all right, he would give her whatever time she needed to come clean to him. She always did.

Playfully he leaned down and nipped at the tip of her ear, "Hey. I promise when we win I'll take you for a victory lap to the winner's circle, what do you say? Eh?"

A considerable amount of the tension released from her shoulders. That was another perk of their bond; he could usually find some way of comforting her, just as she could him.

She brought a hand up to his cheek, brushing up into his plume of blond hair. He could feel the slight change in the muscle of her jaw as she said, "That sounds like the best idea you've had in a while, but we have to make sure we win first. Now, grab Benihime and get going before she gets stolen too."

She tried to hide it, but he was certain that she was smiling as she disappeared into the living quarters.

It was something he wouldn't trade for anything.

Not a damn thing.

VVVVV

Karakura's Chinatown was downtown, at least a train ride away from the shop. A couple of shunpo would have been infinitely faster. He could have easily avoided the heat and smell that humans seemed to generate whenever a bunch of them were packed into a small, metal compartment like sardines. Not to mention the odd stares from native businessmen and women going downtown for work, who were wondering just who that blond stranger in the clogs and dead fashion statements was. Benihime absolutely hated it; her character was far too regal to enjoy being looked at as anything but royalty.

Kisuke didn't mind any of those things. He was perfectly happy to deal with the odd looks, even enjoyed them. The uncomfortable atmosphere of the subway was also enjoyable to him.

When it came down to it, Kisuke just liked people. He loved the bustle and the daily little dramas you could uncover if one eavesdropped in the right places. He loved the way different people would react to different situations. He loved the constant thought and dissection of the universe that went on inside most of their brains. And those that weren't exactly buzzing with thought were amusing.

Not only that but humans in general didn't have a lot of power compared to the other sentient beings that were all around them. They didn't have super strength, magic, zanpaku-to, yet at the same time they had managed to almost wipe out the Black Court vampires in Europe, a race that on their worst day would have given him a run for his money. At the same time they still completely ignored the existence of such creatures. It was...refreshing.

He got off the train as close as he could get to Chinatown and made his way through the crowded streets. Again, at the expense of comfort, he walked for the sake of watching the people. The little drama that unfolded before him between an overdramatic teenage girl and her boyfriend made the seven-block walk in clogs worth it.

The section of Chinatown he was looking for was probably the quietest part in the whole downtown area. After he got away from the bustling main street and subsequent marketplace, he worked his way down a set of dark alleys, mostly dingy apartments with the occasional shop. He found his way through the place by memory, slowly finding the part of the city where the paranormal was slightly more active. This was most apparent when he passed a shop with a couple of women in school-girl outfits that dropped just a hair short of being inappropriate. Faeries. They were strong enough to use their glamour to hide from humans, but he easily saw through the milky white skin to the slight shading of scales over their bodies, and the narrowly slit green eyes.

Tessai's own shop actually wasn't that far beyond the faeries'. It looked like the newest place in the area. Tessai liked to take care of his things.

There was the gentle sound of bells ringing as Kisuke entered the shop and looked around. Unlike his own shop, Tessai's catered almost exclusively to the supernatural and the occasional clued in human. It was so incredibly cluttered with everything from love potions and exotic ingredients to bronze summoning circles. Kisuke hadn't dared to be so open about his own supernatural dealings. So far, everything from that area of his business was underground. However, a great deal of his earnings had gone into opening his shop, and now even more of his earnings would go into fixing it up. His earlier assessment of his not eating for a while was looking more and more likely. But, first things first.

"Tessai! Hey, Tessai! You around?" he called into the dark shop. It was devoid of electrical light for obvious reasons.

From the back, a man who looked easily like a professional wrestler with glasses emerged. He was taller than Kisuke...and much wider. His face was contorted into a permanently serious look. "Captain Urahara," He greeted formally, "How are you?"

Kisuke visibly flinched at the usage of his former title. He wasn't a captain anymore, he was a scientist, a smuggler and an outlaw that was basically begging for scraps on the outskirts of soul reaper society. He had no illusions on his position in life compared to his former glory.

He liked this _so_ much better.

"Tessai, we're old buddies, no need to be so formal...or inaccurate." He reached up to a jar that contained something indistinguishable and tapped on it.

"Once someone is a true captain they always are. Whether it is official or not."

Kisuke flashed a broad smile, "'Once a king in Narnia, Always a king in Narnia', huh?"

"I merely meant that there are certain characteristics that a true captain will always have."

Kisuke thought about that for a second, "Yeah. You're right. Now that I think about it my hair hasn't changed at _all_ since my days as a boss-man. Neither has my outfit. Y'know, except for this _great_ hat I got from a garage sale a while ago. Now I have a spare in every room."

Tessai was annoyed, though it would be hard to tell for anyone who didn't know him. "No, I was referring to your way of dodging around personal conversation, even in the occasion of compliments. However few you receive."

"Aww, you're breakin' my heart," Kisuke's smile widened. However serious and stoic Tessai seemed, the man had character. He could hide insults, jokes or compliments in almost any statement.

"So, sir, what brings you here?" Tessai said, dropping the previous subject.

Kisuke sighed. Now Tessai was just using a formal speech to annoy him. "Yeah, about that. I was wondering if you were still on good terms with those contacts from the White Council."

"I'm not you, Kisuke."

"Right...so you're on good terms with them?" As Kisuke spoke a snake in a cage hissed at him, causing him to jump away reflexively. He didn't like snakes.

Tessai sighed, "Yes. Do you care to elaborate on 'why'?"

Kisuke cringed. He didn't want to admit his carelessness to another person. At the very least it was embarrassing, at worst it might be considered blatantly suicidal. Despite his cavalier attitude, he was angered that he had been arrogant enough to assume that one swiss-army-knife of a ward would do it. From now on when he was working on something, he was going to put up double...no, triple wards. With the idea that he was not going to have a repeat of the incident, he admitted the situation to Tessai, explaining it in detail.

Tessai stood there and listened. Unlike Yoruichi he didn't let the worry, or the irritation at stupidity show, for this, Kisuke was grateful. At the end of the story the larger man thought it over before speaking, "They could kill you for this if they find out."

"I'm aware of that, and I _really_ wish people would stop focusing on that point."

"Of course. And you're sure it's a wizard that took it? Not a soul reaper? And don't touch that."

Kisuke had been about to tap on an interesting looking jar with what he thought was a preserved rodent. Upon closer inspection he found it living. Tessai catered to a strange crowd. "Yes. I'm sure. So do you have any contacts that you trust not to sell me out?"

Tessai remained quiet for a moment. Kisuke didn't pressure him. From past experience he'd learned it was better to just let the other man think.

"Yes, there's a woman that I get most of the love and escape potions from. She is highly skilled in delicate magic, and she has an intelligent presence about her. She's also connected. I'm certain she knows enough people in the council to get information from all corners of the world. But..." He paused towards the end, suddenly uneasy.

"But?" Kisuke asked.

Tessai moved his glasses farther up his nose, "She's a-"

Kisuke didn't get the last of that. A sudden rush of magic washed over them both. It was extremely gentle. Kisuke may not have noticed it if he hadn't been slightly on edge as it was. He didn't panic, but he knew a skilled practitioner when he felt one. It had been a skilled practitioner that robbed him. He also knew well enough how quickly a skilled practitioner could kill before someone even knew they were in the same room. So there _was_ a little fear involved as his hand slipped to Benihime. Automatically he turned to face the threat.

And a threat she was...She was all delicate features, pale skin with lip-stick reddened lips, silky black hair, and a veil he hadn't even noticed until she dropped it. Admittedly the femme fatale look was overused, but damned if she didn't work it for all it was worth. Most men would have considered her drop-dead gorgeous, but he wasn't overly impressed. So far, the veil she had used to sneak up on him was the most interesting part of her. Then again, he was sure the look worked on the majority of the male population. The men who hadn't had centuries to completely master the lower part of their spinal column. All Kisuke gathered from the ensemble was that she was a manipulator. A good one, not a great one. He had seen right though it, after all.

"Tessai," she greeted, all smiles. "Did that shipment I ordered come in yet?"

Tessai blinked behind his glasses. "No, I'm afraid it hasn't. I apologize for the inconvenience. But I could have sworn I told you it would be a week at least."

"I'm sorry to rush so soon, but I do need it quickly..." she turned her attention away from Tessai. "Hello, Mr. Urahara." She used a voice that was just as silky as her hair, though he noticed the slight tightening of magic when she spoke. It was even more delicate than the full veil. He barely noticed it at all, seeing as how it was purely for cosmetic purposes. An imperfection that she needed to hide? Interesting. He hadn't noticed it when she spoke to Tessai.

"Ahh," Kisuke said calmly, "Tessai, am I correct in assuming this is a 'speak of the devil' moment?"

Tessai nodded. "Yes. This would be her."

"Well, it's going to take more than knowing my name to impress me," He turned his attention to the woman, "What else you got?"

She smiled, "What makes you think I'm prepared to give up any information to you?"

Kisuke smiled, "Oh, I don't know. Because I'm cute and my eyes change color depending on light?"

"You're going to have to do better than that." There was a slight lilt to it, an obvious hint that his good humor and attractive packaging wasn't going to cut it.

She wanted money; it would have been obvious even to a man that _wasn't_ Kisuke Urahara. So that's what she was so skilled at manipulating out of people. He didn't let his anxiety show. Paying off a manipulative witch wasn't the way he wanted to spend his day. However, his options weren't looking too good. He needed an informant, and he needed one immediately. The longer he spent haggling a price with said informant the longer whoever stole his experiment could use it to wreak havoc. People could die while he was busy prying that rusty clamp off his wallet. Besides, if there was one thing he knew about money it was that it was a big motivator. She was obviously good at the game she played, and based off the expensive suit she was wearing Kisuke imagined that the product she delivered was a quality one.

"So," he said impatiently. "Are you going to give me an amount or am I just gonna have to wing it and hope it's the right one?"

She gave another little smile, and told him.

A minute later Kisuke had finished prying open his wallet and had a check written out. He gave his own smile, "Now. Tell me what you know."

"Chicago. There have been two hollow attacks on wizards signed on with the White Council in the last 24 hours. Whoever he is, he is moving quickly and with a vengeance. My sources from the area believe that he is somebody with a vendetta against the council, he somehow heard about your device, and he is using it as the murder weapon to throw off the wardens."

Kisuke let his smile widen; now they were getting somewhere, "You have someone in mind?"

Another smile, "Yes. His name is Harry Dresden, he's a warlock."

Kisuke raised an eyebrow, "A warlock? I thought you lopped off their heads?"

"A bleeding heart helped him escape breaking the first law. Three years ago he aided another warlock in, again, breaking the first law. The warden in charge didn't have enough evidence the second time, so the Doom did not fall on his head. And you have heard about the White Council's war with the vampires?"

"That was him, huh? What'd he do, sleep with a noble?"

"No," Her smile widened in emphasis, "He murdered her."

"Let me guess, it's considered an act of revenge against the council?"

She plucked the check from his fingers, "I'm sorry. That's all the information I'm paid for. Have a nice day, Mr. Urahara." She made her way back to the door, adding a slight tilt to her hip as she went.

"Ma'am," Kisuke called, "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

She turned. "I didn't give it." Again that hint of needing something in exchange for information flittered into her tone.

He reached into what was left of his wallet, a couple of bills and some change later she was on speaking terms again.

"Tsuki Takanaka," She said warmly, "Thank you for your business. Please contact me if you need anything else."

Then she was gone. He watched her walk out the door...with about half his savings.

After a while, "So Tessai, should I consider it strange that she just happened to walk in, grab me by the ankles and shake the money out of me while giving me _just_ the information I needed?"

Tessai opened up his register to take out a handful of checks. "No, I'm afraid. Ms. Takanaka has a knack for...walking in at opportune times when money is to be made."

"How did she know what I needed?" Kisuke asked, increasingly suspicious. "Think about it. The only way she could have had information so quickly is if she knew I would be looking for something relating to Hollow attacks. How could she know that unless she knew that's what the device caused? How did she even know about it!?" It didn't look like he'd need to go to Chicago, anyway. The woman he needed was right there in Karakura.

"You aren't considering the other possibility," Tessai said darkly.

Kisuke had to think about it for a second, clicking his tongue lightly as he did so...until it came to him. "Oh...that."

The other option, instead of her being his little thief, was that she had been to a recent White Council meeting. Perhaps at that meeting, they had had a strange visitor. Perhaps that visitor was there in response to a complaint of the Council. The Council, knowing that the Soul Society had a history of members using Hollows as weapons, would blame the Soul Society of not being able to control its reapers. The visitor would mention that they already had a reaper in mind...

This Tsuki woman was a likely suspect. There was no denying that. But he had pegged her as an opportunist, and obviously someone in danger of losing their life was a good money-making opportunity. If she had heard of him and the Soul Society's suspicions she may have been able to fill in the rest, especially if she stopped by the shop.

Damnit. Kisuke didn't like the thought that he was walking into a trap. But if someone, this Dresden, had taken his device and was using it to kill people, the Council would track him down. The device would be found on him. Thus the Soul Society's hound would have enough evidence against Kisuke, and he'd be on the fast track to the Sougyokou...A terribly unpleasant thought. He couldn't afford to not take the lead. He would ask Tessai to keep an eye on Tsuki before leaving for Chicago.

Kisuke sighed and tried to smother the rising headache. This was not his best day ever.

VVVVV Chapter end

AN: WHOOT!! HUZZAH! Chapter two finished!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Dresden Files or Bleach or anything else that anybody in the known universe could sue me for

Disclaimer: I do not own Dresden Files or Bleach or anything else that anybody in the known universe could sue me for. I own nothing.

Trial By Error

Harry simply did not understand the all American ritual of cutting someone else off when they tried to merge. Here he was minding his own business, trying to get over into the lane he needed to make his exit, and some jerk in a white BMW sped up to keep him from merging. Harry just barely managed to avoid an unholy wreck. The unholy prick in question was on the phone, too. Maybe Mr. Armani Suits just didn't want the eyesore that was the Blue Beetle to mar his lovely rush hour scenery. Whatever the reason, Harry shot him the appropriate hand gesture and still somehow managed to make his exit in time.

"Some people..." he griped to Mister-Bob in the backseat. Bob seemed to be taking advantage of his cat's body, and was preoccupied with the strap to the sports bag that held Harry's more necessary wizarding equipment. Either his complaint went unnoticed or ignored as Bob scraped his new claws on the nylon.

Harry sighed. It wasn't like he would have gotten any sympathy from Bob even if his cat had the appropriate vocal chords. As a matter of fact, he preferred his oft-annoying lab partner mute, especially while he was driving. That was the last thing he needed; to be barreling down the freeway at seventy miles an hour while being insulted in some dialect of Ancient Greek. Maybe then he'd feel the need to kill himself by trying to merge.

After what seemed like a long time he found himself forking over a fortune in change to the parking meter across the street from the victim's apartment building. He didn't take the whole duffel bag in with him. It would have been suspicious and it wasn't like he'd be able to find anything he needed in under twelve minutes. He doubted the bad guy would wait patiently while he dug his blasting rod out. Instead he settled for the essentials: blasting rod, staff, gun. Then, thinking better of it, he decided to take the holy water bottle with him. Since the incident with Bianca, he really didn't go anywhere without holy water.

And this was a special bottle of holy water. The plastic was etched with runes containing raw energy. As soon as Harry released it...kapow! Holy water would spray in every which way, along with a blast to rival a grenade. It would give the next vamps trying to off him the shock of their freaking un-lives. He politely poked Bob in the flank with his blasting rod before putting it in the hip-holster he'd made for it, "Move, now."

Bob 'mrrwed' irritably and lifted his cat head with some level of dignity. It was his silent way of saying that, even though Harry was the one giving orders, he was still the boss. Harry's eye twitched. "Hey," he growled and Bob looked at him in response. "Just because you're in my cat's body doesn't mean you can give me orders like he does."

Not bothering to see if Bob had any sort of reply, he started striding across the street to the apartment building. One fat security guard was placed at a desk in the middle of the entryway, sleeping like a baby...with a Playboy Magazine clutched in his little hands. Harry was one to let sleeping security guards lie. He skirted the guard without much thought and started ascending the stairs to the floor the victim had lived on.

He didn't trust elevators. Modern inventions tended to go wrong around magic; the stronger the magic, the wronger they went. As a general rule, Harry avoided elevators unless a giant scorpion was chasing him and he needed to get away from it faster than stairs would allow.

On the bright side, it kept him in shape.

He hadn't forgotten the room number, but he didn't really need it. The door was easy to spot because of the police tape sprawled in seemingly random strips across the frame. He used the spare key Murphy had given him to get back into the apartment. Bob slinked in soundlessly under the tape. Harry, on the other hand, had to contort himself in a variety of clever ways in order to get past the tape without tearing it apart. Murphy did that on purpose to spite his tall stature, he knew it. Maybe he should have eased off on the short jokes at lunch...

Eventually he managed to get through the spider-web of police tape and into the apartment. The threshold felt emptier than it had the last time he'd been in there. Only now did he get a full sense of the vast space inside. There was furniture that attempted to fill the space, but it didn't really succeed. Something was missing from the apartment, some quintessential _fullness_. Like it wasn't really a home. It went through all the motions, but the threshold was so _weak_. Harry went about sifting through the cupboards, searching for wizarding supplies other than the small alter Murphy had found in the bedroom.

Nada. Not even chalk or extra incense for the altar.

That meant one of two things. Either Mr. Takanaka hadn't had enough strength to even be a moderate practicing wizard, or his supplies were kept somewhere else. Curious, very curious.

Harry kept searching the apartment to no avail. The man had lived an incredibly sparse life, or so it seemed based off of the apartment. Even the fireplace seemed to be lacking any actual usage. While Harry would be the first to admit that not every wizard felt the need to start fires, without the heating hooked up the apartment would get cold during the Chicago winter. He had to have had some way of keeping warm. The more Harry looked, the more he doubted the victim had lived there at all.

But...if he hadn't lived there, why on earth did he die there?

Harry sighed. Next stop: MacAnally's. There were plenty of lower class practitioners who frequented the pub that might have known either the victim or have heard rumors of the same phenomenon occurring elsewhere. Or maybe he'd get lucky and Bob would know what it was, saving him some time.

No sooner had he thought this than Bob came out from wherever he had been lurking. Funny how cats could lurk better than almost any other animal. One minute they were there, the next they were gone, the minute after that they were in a completely different room.

"Find anything?"

Bob gave him no indication that he'd heard him and sauntered over to the door. He planted Mister's large carcass in front of the door, fully getting into the role of a cat that wanted out.

"Damn. I get enough of this snootiness from you as it is. I get enough of this snootiness from my cat as it is. I don't need the two of you working together to prove how superior you are." He fumbled with the keys as he spoke, and let the door swing open.

Bob slipped through the police tape with no trouble whatsoever and began walking down the hall. Harry put his staff through first, and managed to get his entire torso out before he realized something was wrong.

The cat was frozen still at the end of the hall. Predators could do that, freeze and remain flawless like statues as they prepared to leap on some unsuspecting prey. However, the raised hairs all along the cat's flank told Harry that whatever had him standing absolutely still was not some little mouse at the end of the hall.

Thing was, the best predators always knew there were better predators. They could just as easily freeze when they were being hunted as when they were hunting.

Stars and stones.

Harry barely had time to register the fact that he was in danger when it slammed into his back, dealing him an upward blow that caused him to do a complete summersault into the doorframe across the hall. Wood creaked and splintered in a sudden, violent sound as he came into contact with it. Pain exploded in his back and scattered his senses on the floor for one dizzying moment.

When his mind was brought up to speed, he wished it had stayed behind. He registered how much his back hurt, the fact that the sunspots in his vision clouded out his attacker, and that he was on his back with his legs sticking up in the air. All in all, he was in one shitty defense position and there wasn't a damn thing he could do as long, spindly claws grabbed the mantle of his duster and dragged him back into the apartment.

The attacker turned suddenly and threw Harry across the room. No sooner did it occur to him that either he had taken up the art of flying or the Whatever had hurled him into the air than he realized he was going to hit something very hard in a few moments. He barely had time to brace for impact as the glass coffee table broke his fall. The majority of his back went crashing through, his head remaining just barely outside the frame. Thankfully the frame of the coffee table bent a little under the protective wards of the duster. It was probably what made a difference between a broken neck and a case of whiplash. When he came to his feet it was without any sort of grace, but he was glad to be walking at all.

The duster protected most of him from getting sliced to ribbons, but blood still slipped from tiny cuts on his hands, the backs of his calves, and one place on the back of his knee where a smallish piece of glass was stuck. Every time he moved a new wave of pain shot through him, and it was hard to tell whether it was due to the sharp, stingy feeling that came from his hands or the feeling of a piece of glass fixed in an area of skin that was constantly flexing. Either way, it hurt like hell itself. The glass imbedded behind his knee tugged and pulled, grinding the surrounding flesh to what felt like hamburger. Harry did his best to put the pain aside and move. His back was numb from the impact, but he knew that wouldn't last long. The pain would come soon enough, he just had to move before it became so crippling he couldn't fight.

Harry managed to look up just in time to see a mouthful of white, razor sharp teeth enter his line of view. He didn't have time to call his magic. Instead he let instinct take over, and instinct leveled his power ring at the mouth of teeth. Invisible force shot from his hand, slamming the Whatever across the length of the room. The Whatever hit the fireplace, and it hit hard. The sound of cracking marble filled the room like a gunshot. The creature shrieked and the cry was a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

After Harry had a moment to breathe, he wiped his bloody hands on his shirt and yanked the piece of glass out of his knee. Glancing at the wound, he was not pleased to find out that it did, in fact, look like hamburger. He knew removing the glass was bad for the injury and that it would cause more bleeding, but if he couldn't move he was as good as dead. On the subject of being as good as dead...he looked at his assailant.

It looked like one of those things from _Aliens_ if it had been left out in the desert sun and sand until its exoskeleton was bleached white. Its body was all tightly wound lines of bone, solid in some places but flexible in others. From the oddly humanoid head to long, inverted legs, it seemed to have no lack of protection. A long, barbed tail extended from the spinal column and whipped back and forth, giving it the resemblance of a snake being electrocuted.

Three important things struck Harry about this creature:

The first thing was its face. Like the rest of the monster, the face was covered in a thick layer of bone-like substance. It looked...human. But, like any circus clown's mask, the features were exaggerated so they seemed almost cartoonish.

Secondly...there was something wrong with it. In the place where the head met the lower spinal cord, cracks radiated as far as the forehead. Harry could see some kind of bright red material on the inside. Whatever it was, it filled the cracks, dripping along the sides but disappeared before hitting the floor. Come to think of it, it was kind of the same way that ectoplasm evaporated...He'd never seen anything like this before, but something told him that those imperfections weren't supposed to be there. Everything else about the monster looked so...pristine. The cracks and subsequent red goo made it appear like some grade-schooler had patched it back together with glue.

The third was right in the middle of its chest. A hole, one clean chunk right through the beast's torso. Harry recoiled for a moment. If he had caused that sort of damage he would have noticed...and he admitted he didn't have the precision to make as clean of a wound as that. Meaning it was either a physical flaw on this particular monster, or a characteristic of its race. Still, nothing with a gaping hole should have been breathing...Maybe it was the undead of some sort?

Hell, one of those spots _had_ to be a weak spot. "Hey, Ugly," Harry slurred. "Didn't anybody ever teach you it's bad manners to try and tenderize your meal _while it's still alive_!" Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to antagonize the Ugly in question, but it wasn't like that had ever stopped him before.

Unfortunately he'd lost his grip on his staff when he'd been sucker-punched in the hallway, and somehow he got the feeling that if he turned his back to the Whatever he'd be right back where he started; on his ass and waiting to get devoured. And he couldn't use his blasting rod in a building with people in it.

It howled a challenge, drawing itself up to its full height.

Harry, not trusting things that could brush off a collision with a marble fireplace, pulled his gun out of the inside pocket of his duster. The beast barreled towards him, clearing the distance between them in a matter of moments. He raised his gun to the creature's face and pulled the trigger. With a bang, a flash lit up the pristine white of the bone as it opened its mouth with the intent to bite Harry in half. It got a little more than it bargained for. Raw firepower caused its head to jerk backward violently as the bullet caught the back of its throat. It staggered, clawed hands grasping at its neck like a choking human would. It was interesting, sometimes, how often he saw human like actions from the assorted monsters of the Nevernever. For a fleeting moment he wondered if the thing in front of him had ever been human

Harry paused; he didn't want to fire any more shots if necessary. If the cops weren't already on their way then more shots would bring them running. Perhaps he'd get lucky and the Whatever would choke on its own blood and save him the trouble.

Just as soon as he thought this, the creature stopped staggering in the middle of the room. It hacked. Loudly. A small metal object bounced across the carpet. The bullet was mushroomed like it had hit something...but no blood came out with it.

A cold rush went down Harry's spine. It was the kind of fear he felt quite often, the sense that he was _way_ out of his league. The kind of fear in which the fight or flight portion of his brain was leaning heavily towards flight. The bullet had hit the inside of the throat, and it hadn't done a damn thing. It had bounced off the creature's skin like it was made of steel. Damn...the day had started out so much more promising...and now he was locked in mortal combat with a monster from freaking Krypton. Since when were the supernatural baddies allowed to have _super powers_?

It wasn't that using his magic without a focus was beyond him, but placing his magic into a controlled device, and then releasing it in an equally controlled manner made him less likely to: A) blow the walls around him to dust along with the monster or B) blow himself to iddy biddy bits. But drawing raw energy from the air around him and releasing it in a somewhat directed way was not beyond him, and it wasn't overly dangerous for the people around him.

"_Ventis servantas!_" he yelled, manipulating the molecules of the air and throwing it in a concentrated ball at the monster. It was ready this time. Slapping its smooth body down on the ground gave the gust of raw wind nothing to grapple onto, and it bounced harmlessly off of the bone. It lifted its head and howled in defiance (or anger, Harry wasn't sure which) before charging with the same speed as the time before.

Harry was the one ready this time. He let it build up its momentum before allowing his shield bracelet to spring to life. At the last second, the monster seemed to realize what the wizard was up to. It slowed its speed just enough to keep the wall of translucent blue energy from doing damage beyond a broken tooth. Despite the fact that the effort to keep the shield steady had caused Harry's arm to numb, he grinned fiercely as one of the sharp fangs broke off and landed on an area of carpet to the right. It buried its face into the tiny palms of its talon hands, making a sort of moaning sound. Once again...it was a strikingly human thing to see from a monster.

Still, for one foolish second he felt elated; he could _hurt_ it. If he could _hurt_ it then he could _kill_ it. So it looked like things like bullets and crashing into marble wouldn't harm the Whatever, but psychic, magically laden attacks did some damage. Time to go on the offensive.

The creature continued smashing into the shield, each strike strong enough to jar Harry's concentration. He was forced to pour energy both into the psychic blast prepping in his right hand and the shield bracelet to keep from getting pulverized before he could have a chance _to_ pulverize. He gritted his teeth in the effort to maintain both energies evenly. Whipping up spells from scratch while being treated like a punching bag wasn't one of his specialties. Then again, he knew some wizards that wouldn't be able to manage that, so maybe the fact he could do it at _all_ made it one of his specialties.

He developed a certain sense of pattern, allowing the thing to hit his shield while he focused on a spell that would blow it to kingdom come. As stupid as it was in retrospect, the repetition lured him into a false sense of security.

Which, of course, was when it chose to do something new.

Before he could do anything to stop it, a blue energy began to radiate off of one of the thing's clawed hands. Harry was still busy puzzling over what exactly it was going to do with that energy when it punched a hole right through his fucking shield. The talons latched onto his neck in a death-grip, picking him up by the throat and slamming him against a wall. Sunspots again danced in his vision, and a neck that had already taken a great deal of abuse came alight with new pain. Needless to say, it irreparably jarred his concentration. The incomplete spell in his right hand drifted harmlessly away in favor of holding onto the elongated wrist to keep from choking to death.

The thing was coming closer, its long tongue slipping out to lick its stony chops. Slowly, it lifted him from his feet, putting all of his weight on his neck and closing his windpipe. He prayed to the powers that be his windpipe didn't collapse under the pressure. Slowly, the burn for air in his chest seemed to overwhelm even the pains elsewhere in his body. His heart, already dangerously high in tempo, somehow managed to kick it up just one more notch. The possibility of concentrating enough to draw an attack spell without a focus was hopeless at best.

And...it began to pull its hand away. An odd sensation came over Harry, as if it was pulling its hand away but wasn't. It tugged at a part of him and somewhere deep in his center he felt something slowly giving away. There was a sensation of being pulled towards the beast. Suddenly the pains of his body, the fiery burn of his chest, seemed a blissful distance behind him. It became harder to move his hand or kick his feet, as if they were weighted down with lead. He suddenly felt like he was simply drifting farther away from his body.

A terrible insight hit him: this thing was pulling his soul clean out of his body. Flawlessly, it was taking his soul and consciousness and was pulling him away from his protective shell.

It was going to take his soul out and devour it whole.

That was _so_ not happening!

He fought it, realizing this was a more dire situation than simply being strangled. Instinctively he reached out with his magic, struggling to pull himself back into his body even as the Whatever pulled harder on his soul. Somewhere he thought that it felt like the quintessential tug-of-war for his very soul. The problem was that with every second it felt as if it became harder to hold the current of energy. If this was tug-of-war then he was losing. He knew there was a reason he'd always hated that game.

Then Mister-Bob appeared behind the Whatever, dragging Harry's staff with his front claws.

There it was; his hope, his saving grace. He put the last of his effort into it, drudging up every last ounce of energy he could muster to latch onto his soul and drag it back into his body where it belonged. Right away he knew he wasn't strong enough to pull it all the way back in. Whatever the...Whatever was it clearly had the monopoly on soul stealing. Instead he just pulled his soul back enough to lift his arm towards the staff on the floor, "_Ventis servantas!_" He wheezed, barely a whisper. The simple act of still being able to use that basic spell saved his life. Air picked his staff up and it flew across the room. He managed to catch it with his hand.

His soul was still partially out of his body, but enough was in place for him to finally act. It took some effort, but he managed to raise his staff towards the Whatever. "_Forzare!_" Again, barely a wheeze, but that was all that was needed. With his last bit of willpower, he directed the psychic blast to the barely visible red-filled cracks on the top of the Whatever's head.

He had been right, it was a weakness.

It sounded like wood hitting on stone, only the wood happened to have a psychic force behind it. In pain, the Whatever dropped him to hold its own head. His consciousness snapped back into his body the second he hit the floor. Everything came back to him in one jarring moment; every ache, every scrape, every cut, the fact that his body was one huge bruise and the fact that he was blacking out from lack of oxygen. He coughed violently as he tried to clear his airway and pull in enough air to keep from passing out. His throat was dry and sore enough that the coughing brought tears to his eyes. But he could breathe again. In and of itself this was enough of a blessing that the other pains didn't mean as much.

He lifted his gaze to the Whatever, readying for another attack by sitting up and leaning his back against a wall. Harry didn't have the strength to stand right then. If it was fixing for another round then it would have to come to him.

The Whatever was in the middle of the apartment, on its inverted knees and clutching its head. The red filling that oozed from the cracks Harry had opened had become less wax-like and more liquid-like. It slipped freely from the cracks, falling down the bony face and neck like morbid streams on a snow-covered hillside. They formed a small, collected, gooey pool on the carpet beneath it. Instantly the spider-web cracks on the beast's skull began to mend and heal. The Whatever rose from its position, seemingly empty of the red liquid and free of the cracks.

It took one look at Harry before turning and throwing itself on all fours to clear the distance of the apartment as fast as possible. It leapt and threw itself towards the window, taking less window and more wall out with it.

The sound of crunching wall reached Harry, as did the terrified thought that that _thing_ and those pieces could land on people on the ground below. With great effort he got to his feet and, using his staff for support, looked out the gigantic hole in the wall.

Debris littered the ground below, scattered haphazardly across the street and even on top of some cars. Horns honked violently, as if the rubble would get up and move just because it was inconvenient.

Thankfully, from what he could see (admittedly not very much), it didn't look like anybody had been hurt. He decided it was time to get out of there before those sirens arrived. The world was spinning and walking was difficult, even with Bob's help showing him the way to the elevators so he wouldn't have to use his faulty memory. He did decide on the elevators for once, because he was sure that if he tried to navigate something as difficult as stairs then he would fall and die.

The second he got in the elevator, he sat down and fought to stay awake.

The next time he woke up he was staring at a pretty, worried face framed by blond hair.

When Murphy helped him with the very, very, _very_ tricky walk from the apartment building to her car, he didn't notice the white BMW watching him limp across the street.

VVVVV

Soul reaper magic wasn't as versatile as that of wizards. It was all about lines connecting points and well-beaten tracks that one's energy could flow along for the desired effect. Learning a kido was a process of control and meditation that focused on training energy a little bit at a time. The more complicated the kido, the larger amounts of energy required, the harder it was to move all of that energy. It took weeks to modify a pre-existing kido to be a little more special. For someone to create one of their own took months. This meant that in the midst of battle soul reapers were restricted in the number of spells they could muster, and thus their ability to adjust to changing circumstances was more limited than that of wizards. To make matters worse the differences between individual wizards was greater than the difference between individual soul reapers.

Wizards had the advantage when it came to versatility. There was no questioning that.

On the bright side, soul reapers, especially clever ones like Kisuke, had speed to their advantage. While he was limited in the number of kido he had, the ones he did have could be drawn up and used in combat fast enough to match or beat any wizard. And he could flash-step out of their way and attack in close quarters with Benihime. Most wizards wouldn't be able to beat him in close quarters combat.

At lunch, he relayed this information to Yoruichi.

She got the cutest expression on her face as she considered the statistics he laid out. In a very un-soldier like motion, she played with the salmon in her bento box as she thought. "You aren't factoring in the use of the device against us. Too many hollows distracting us while we're fighting the wizard could be deadly."

Kisuke nodded. "Yes, all it means is that we need to control the conditions in which we enter the fight."

She took the time to stop fiddling with her food to give him the old 'that isn't an answer' look.

He sighed, "Look, you can't get something for nothing on the spiritual plain, you know that. Taking control of something's mind, even something as weak as a hollow's, takes a lot of energy from any soul reaper. My creation was meant to make it a great deal easier, but a certain amount of energy is still required to put into the device. Unless we're dealing with a very strong wizard they couldn't summon enough hollows to get in our way."

"Unless we're dealing with a very strong wizard."

"Right."

"And you say this Dresden killed a noble of the Red Court?" She took a sip of milk.

He took a gulp of his Diet Coke. "We don't know the circumstances of that."

"No, but we can guess." She held up a hand and counted off as she spoke, "Either he used a curse or it was a personal attack. If he used a curse then it was probably from a distance and that would make it nearly impossible to track him unless they were expecting it. And if the vamps were expecting it then they would have countered it."

Kisuke shot her a sidelong glance. "Yoruichi, that's assuming vamps are _sane_. They aren't."

"Humor me," she deadpanned. "But if Dresden attacked the noble head-on, then that would mean that he's a successful enough combat wizard to survive a household full of soldiers, _vampire_ soldiers, and still have enough raw strength to tackle a noble and _live_."

"For one thing, we don't even know it's Dresden. The name may not even be real. My primary suspect is still here in Karakura. This could be a wild goose chase meant to lure me into the clutches of some evil, manipulative warlock."

For a second she got the most shocked expression on her face. The strangest thing was that seconds later it turned to a sort of hopeful look before switching back to a regular look of surprise. What she said next just plain shocked him.

"Then you should stay here," she said just a little bit too quickly, before continuing in a calmer voice, "I mean, I'll check this Dresden out-"

"Gods above, I hope not." He gave her his most boyish grin. She loved his boyish grins.

The expression on her face quickly turned to a glare. "Shut up, Urahara. As I was saying: send me. Stay here and watch this Takanaka girl -if you make any kind of a perverted joke out of that statement I'll kick you, understand?"

He tried to look pouty. He couldn't help it if he had a habit of saying what came to mind when sexual innuendos were involved...especially when he knew she was in a mood and was trying to cheer her up. "Yoruichi? This wizard can unravel soul reaper wards, there's nothing to say they can't unravel soul reaper kido as well." He leaned in for effect. "And I'll remind you, _Tenshi Heisoban_, that the majority of your combat techniques circulate around kido and shun-po. You know it's to your advantage to have me there. Now, the question is: why are you so anxious to _not_ have me there?"

She stayed silent, suddenly fascinated with the pile of rice in her box.

"I think that you aren't so keen on something in this situation. What I don't know is why you haven't told me up until now." Maybe this wasn't the best time to force her to come clean. But he needed to know what was causing her hesitation. Hesitation was dangerous. He'd watched too many people die because of it and he wasn't about to let that same fate fall on her. As a matter of fact, he was surprised she would let it affect her as much as it already had.

Yoruichi put down her chopsticks, then looked him in the eyes. "If you're sighted in the same city as it is being used in then you'll have no way out. This 'lead' smells like a trap, and I can't believe you would just _walk_ into it." She faked a smile. "Besides, you're better at manipulating situations from the sidelines than anybody I know. It would be downright embarrassing if you let yourself be a pawn in some tart's plan."

"...I understand," he said, completely ignoring her and evenly matching her golden orbs with his gray-green. She knew what he understood, and was the first to look away.

That was why she hadn't admitted it earlier. She was _afraid_. Defenders of the Realm were never afraid. The mistake he'd made was asking her if she was afraid of something. If fear was the source of the problem then a century of training had taught her never to show it. Asking her had forced her to deny it. But now he understood.

She was afraid for him. She knew the danger of their current situation and she was trying to protect him. And she had decided that right then "protecting him" meant keeping him from doing anything else that might put him in danger, even at the cost of her safety. Kisuke suddenly couldn't believe he'd been so blind before. Ever since they were kids, it had been that way. It was silly to assume anything would change now that they were doing grown-up stuff together.

He smiled. The more things changed the more they stayed the same. She had to know that about him as well. "I can't just sit back and watch on this one, Yoruichi. The death here is worse than normal murder; hollows are eating these people's souls. There's nothing for those poor folks. They don't go to the Soul Society. They don't become Hollows and go to Hueco Mundo. They don't even get to go to the Land of the Dead." The Land of the Dead...the theoretical place beyond even the farthest reaches of the Nevernever, where all souls ended up eventually. He rubbed his hands along his forehead and practically made his hat fall off. "I originally created it to help in the war against hollows. Now that it's being used against humans...I need to stop it. I need to personally make sure that thing is destroyed. Too much of my research has already been used to hurt innocent people..." Painful memories of a distant life flashed back. He reined them in immediately.

She sighed. "Stubborn man..."

He smiled. "Stubborn woman..."

"Not nearly as stubborn as you. If I was truly stubborn I would have knocked you unconscious and tied you to a post for the duration of the investigation." She was back to devouring the contents of the bento box, a sure sign that his reasoning had worked. Responsibility was something she could relate to. It also crossed his mind that he had just worked her into a corner though. His logic made sense, thus for the time being she would trust him not to die on her. But if by chance he did die on her...she would never forgive herself for letting him do this. _That_ was a horrible thought.

Right. No dying then.

He gulped down the last of his rice, everything but the little plum on top, and let the last little drip of soda fall into his mouth before slamming the can down on the table like a drunkard. Shooting Yoruichi a grin, he took the can and squished it between his head and hand.

She smiled. Good. It seemed as if he'd gotten rid of that little anxiety session of hers, or at least dulled the impact.

"That's cheating," she teased. "You're wearing a gigai. You dulled the pain sensors."

He flicked his hat down over his eyes to look all the more mysterious. "Are you accusing me of dulling the pain receptors in my gigai's head, a very risky procedure mind you, just for the purposes of impressing you?"

Yoruichi shook her head as if dismissing the thought. "You're right. It was a silly notion that you thought crushing a tin can on your head would impress me."

He feigned disappointment.

She feigned complete and utter disregard for his disappointment. She was faking...definitely faking disregard. He was sure...He thought...Maybe...

They stared at each other for a while like that. Kisuke was the first to give up and rise to his feet. "I think we should make for the Windy City."

She nodded. He loved how she could fall into the teasing role just as easily as she could into the serious role. "The gate's ready. Since we've been there before, I was able to use the markers we left behind. It should be an instantaneous transit, direct linking from Point A to Point B."

"Alright." He rose from his sitting position and tossed the squished can in the recycling. "Let's go check this Dresden out..." At her withering glare he added, "Don't get your hopes up, _not_ the good kind."

VVVVV Chapter End

AN: Okay, that's another chapter out of the way. I'm really liking the way this story is turning out, and I have a coherent plot in mind for this. Always a plus for us writer-types. Hope everybody is enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it!


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